


Delivery Man

by LittleGreenPlasticSoldier



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Band: The Cruel Sea, Deaf Character, Deileen, Eileen is such a badass, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Hard of Hearing, I Blame Tumblr, I don't even ship it, I dunno I kind of dared myself, I love her to bits, Impala, Maiden voyage of this ship?, Outdoor Sex, Rare Pairings, Sex, Sex on the Impala, Sexual Content, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, and totally ship Saileen, deafness, rude rando
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-17 22:08:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10603248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleGreenPlasticSoldier/pseuds/LittleGreenPlasticSoldier
Summary: Whatever you want, he’s got it by the dozen.  Got it by the pound.Dean and Eileen run into each other over a thorough douche canoe, and get to know each other over a shared appreciation of Baby.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ilostmyshoe-79](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ilostmyshoe-79).



> Written for #kimmysbirthdaychallenge using the song [Delivery Man by The Cruel Sea](https://youtu.be/Xn52qWPtWyk) (you're gonna fuckin love it) and in response to an Anon request looking for some Deileen fic. It was meant to be a drabble, just to see if I could bend my brain around the ship, so it's a bit slap dash.

It was a ships-in-the-night affair all around.  Dean sat down next to the woman and caught the practical clothes and the chestnut hair, and had he looked a bit longer he would probably have caught the strength, at least.  But the bartender distracted him with procedure and he followed along with his own - easy smile, one-o-those, glance around, settle in.

The guy that slid in between them noticed just as much about her.  Which was poor form considering he was actually facing her, and literally came out aiming to strike a home run.

“How you doin’?” he asked, throwing the words out over her drink.  He swaggered so much it was almost a wobble, loose with over confidence.

She felt his jacket against her arm and turned, flashing a smile and gauging the lack of distance before turning back.  She had half an eye on the door as it was: two drinks was usually enough for her, if company was slow.

“You feeling shy tonight?” he said.

That was enough to make Dean tilt his head that way, his eyes landing on nothing in particular but the low fridge opposite, as though that’s where the conversation bounced back to him.

 _Shy_.

His flags were raised.

She had caught that, or part of it, and raised her eyebrows as she turned his way, an expression that asked what was up, and he replied “I asked how you’re doin’,” dragging out his patience.

“Oh, sorry,” she said loud enough, she hoped, “I didn’t catch that.”  She waved her fingers between her ear and his and smiled.  He didn’t understand, but she left that for later and went on regardless.  “I’m well.  How are you?”

“I’m good. I thought maybe we could make each other feel better,” he said, taking a sip of his drink.

Dean rolled his eyes, wishing he could hear the woman a bit better.  Not that it was really necessary.  A guy like this shouldn’t be getting any positive reinforcement.

He licked off the shine and watched her, expecting the penny to drop. Someone somewhere had told him he was quite handsome.

For a guy with no name he was being far too forward, too confident.  She could spot these Delivery Man types a mile off, these deep-voiced drawlers with their pouty winks, and had grown wary of I Know What You Need: it took a surprising amount of work.  

“I uh.  No thank you.”  She enunciated clearly, loudly, thanks to the crowded bar.  “I’m not interested.”

“Well, yeah, you’re playing hard to get, but you keep looking at my lips,” he smiled, picking up his glass, and winked “And we all know what that means.”

But she barely catches that at all, builds a guess out of the muscles around his mouth and the smirk in the sip.  “It means I’m deaf,” she says and tilts her chin out flat like, You get me?  It looks very much like a No.

“Oh, you want me to say it again?” He laughs, still without comprehension.  At this point Dean puts both hands on the bar and leans back with a deep breath for Things That Just Became My Business.

“I said, I think you want me.” The guy leans in, slipping a fingertip along a stray lock of hair.  “And I want you right back.  I don’t mind being pushy, if that’s your thing.”

“She doesn’t sound like she wants you to be pushy,” Dean pipes up.  “It sounds like a No.”

The guy leans back, revealing Dean’s neighbour to be Eileen - Eileen the fellow hunter, who is a new friend, beautiful, bright, smart, fearless, and indeed, profoundly deaf. The recognition is private but strikes bright.  Her eyes delight to see him, and his night’s improved exponentially.  This is way more fun than picking up a rando.

“And what the hell can you hear all the way over there?” the guy asks Dean, moving back a steps like they might need the room.

Eileen turns so she can see him properly and raises an eyebrow at Dean.  She’s missed whatever the man said but it was obviously some promise of a threat.  

Dean’s ready for entertainment and slides his elbow along the bar because he’s not sure he’s going to be needed for this.  He waits for Eileen to be looking at him and asks “Were you saying No?”

She turns to the guy but before she can confirm he arcs up at the both of them.  “No!  You were a fuckin’ tease! You don’t ignore someone, then act all sweet.  She knew exactly what she was doin’.”

“Dude,” she leans towards him, “I’m deaf!  I couldn’t hear you!”

The guy rocks away onto his back leg, curls his lip like that’s the shittest joke she’s ever played.  “Oh you saved that till late huh?  Tryin’a make me look like a proper asshole.”  

The people around who’ve been pretending to not listen start pretending to not watch.

“I’m not tryin’,” Eileen tells him, with all the confidence of a girl who’s defended her own ass for a lifetime.  “And it’s not ‘a look’.”

He shift his weight towards them, something that ripples out and makes boyfriends herd their girlfriends, just like it makes Eileen and Dean stand up for each other.

The twitch of him gives and they stand off all at once.  He juts a “As if I’d take on a-” right into her “Go ahead and say it!”

“Woahwoahwoahwoah-” It’s Dean who’s between them, the stranger glowering, Eileen so very ready.

Dean checks with the fool, “You realise it’s your ass I’m protecting right now, right?”

“Oh you _know_ her?” he squeaks.

“Yeah I _know_ her,” Dean mocks, and slides a smirk her way as he says “I know her well enough to know you never stood a ch-”

Dean doesn’t see the guy’s fist come.  The last knuckles catch high on his cheek bone and he tilts back, not quite losing his footing.

Then Eileen clocks the guy a neat punch, right next to his nose, and his head tips back and forth, like it’s on a spring, before he dumps down on his ass and slumps onto the wood.  She guides Dean away from the scene and out the door.

…

“It’s okay,” Eileen decides.  She tilts his face into the street light one more time to be sure.  “It’s gonna colour.”

“Yeah, just what I don’t need,” he grumbles, remembering to keep his mouth in the light.  “I gotta be FBI tomorrow.”

“You want me to step in? Go with Sam?”

Dean huffs like it’s a joke, and tictocs his head with a thought he doesn’t deliver.

“What’s so bad about that?”

“Nothin’!” He assures, over emphasising his shoulders and face, which she knows is for her benefit, but she also knows better.

“You don’t trust my judgement in your place?”

“No, it’s not that,” Dean waves his hands before him, cutting that out.  “You’re fine.  You are good.  It’s just…” Dean goes still, looks over the cars in the lot for a quiet moment and licks his lips in for a bite.  

If she goes on the job with Sam, well that’s more time with him.  And they sure seem sweet together.   _But then, what’m I holding out for anyway_ , he thinks.   _Build a bridge, get over it._

Eileen stands with her hands in her back pockets, head cocked back while she waits for him to cut the crap or move on.

“That was some nice form in there,” Dean nods at the bar.  “I hope it doesn’t happen often.”

Eileen shrugs.  “Fifty-fifty.  You come across many deaf women?”

“No,” he shakes his head, smiling a little.  “Not that I know of.”

“Well, I haven’t come across many tragically bossy dorks, so-”

“Oh!  That’s uncalled for!” Dean rolls with it, then drops the whole thing, because Eileen’s takes a hold of his shirt and stepping up into his space, slowing only a breath before putting her lips on his.

Oh she’s got a lovely set of lips.  Strong, giving, and fucking deft.  Dean holds her ribs, then slides his hands around her and leans into it, both of them tasting and licking and very soon, kissing the fuck out of each other.  He doesn't know why she's kissing him and not Sam, but he can get over that too.

“Take me somewhere,” she says, loud with the puff.

Dean’s a little surprised, stopping to think why.  "You need to leave?  Where's your car?"

“I don’t want you just for your car,” she rolls her eyes.

Dean stands up straight, into the light again.  “Hey, I only want me just for my car.  It’s fair.”

She leans her hands on his chest and emphasises her words.  "I want you to _take me_ somewhere, Dean."

So he takes her hand and leads her to the door, watches her scoot past the driver’s seat and into the middle, and gets in. Quickly he’s got the engine going and Eileen’s wrapped her fingers over the edge of the seat, quietly leaning into it and biting her lip.

He sees her shape, the way her hips tilt down like they’re dipping into the frequency, and guns the engine a little.  That flash in her eyes, the heave of her chest and the cheeky smile.  Fuck.  

She looks at him, excited and ready.

“Me too,” he nods and frikken drives his car exactly the way he likes best.  

He takes the corners slow so she doesn’t lose contact, eases out of the intersections so the lower gears get their share, and hovers around the tipping points where the gears shifts up.  When they get off the freeway and start in the rougher roads, Dean looks over at Eileen for a cue, some hint of what she wants next.

She beautiful, in the dash light, closing her eyes and concentrating on the vibrations.  He drops his hand from the steering wheel, only to his thigh but she knows hope when she sees it and puts his hand on her leg, watches his face as she slides it into the warmth.

Even as the car bounces she sees him nod slightly, so she tucks his fingers into the crease of her jeans, eases up so they can get between her and the car and feel the vibrations of both.

Dean turns to the road and starts looking for dead-ends, lay-aways, a decent shoulder even, and lets Eileen tug his wrist down like she’s feeding it into herself.

Somewhere under the moonlight, between some trees and maybe near a picnic place, he doesn’t know, they stop where the headlights point at just forest and walking tracks, far from anything.  With his spare hand he reaches around for the key but Eileen’s quick.

“Leave it running!”

Dean looks over his shoulder at her, feels her rock onto his hand and he curls his fingers in response, watching her moan into a bitten grin.

Then she opens her eyes, smiling broadly and slaps his shoulder, pushes, shoves, and Dean gets out of the car, Eileen right behind him.

The wonderful thing about Dean’s Baby, amongst every other wonderful thing she is, is that the weight of a woman makes her nose drop to exactly the right height for his cock.  And normally that’s a fact Dean would be working hard to ignore, but right now he wishes he knew the signs for _suspension, sex_ and _perfect._

Eileen hikes up onto the hood, just left of the right headlight, the spill of it lighting her gorgeously.  She belongs there, he thinks, the breeze blowing away honey tresses, the glint in her eye exactly as bright as her.

Dean’s wide awake, taking it all in and steps up between her knees, slides his hands along her thighs.

“Here okay?” she checks.  The brightness is harsh before him, the shadows sharp and cold, and she knows why things are scared of him, can imagine his threat with lighting like this.  But his eyelashes.  His dimples.  That play of the tongue she sees peeking out.  He’s looking over her, imagining what’s next and delighted about it, and it makes Eileen keen and honest.

She whips a condom out of her back pocket, saying “Don’t need these!” and starts undoing her jeans.  Dean steps up, helps her by pulling off one boot so the pants can hang off the other, starts undoing her shirt so she matches a bit better, top and bottom.  He drags his fingertips over everything he sees, feels goosebumps almost sharp in the shadows, sees them pimpled on her chest in the pale glow.  He slides his hands over her thighs and spreads them broad for the warmth.  

Eileen’s been busying herself with his button and fly, and starts rolling on the protection, interrupted half way by Dean slipping his hand up the back of her head so he can kiss her.  He kisses her hard, eager, and when she grabs hold of him too, he lets her go to finish the job with the rubber.

Dean gets a hand under her armpit, another under a cheek, lifting her enough to shift her forward, and puts his hand between her legs, palm up, offering.

Eileen grabs his wrist again, lifts a leg to get him under her and he wastes no time, sliding all the way in and up, wedging his hand between her and the car, because he’s pretty sure, surer from the look on her face, that this spot on the hood is better connected to the framework, and should deliver the rumble nice a steady.

“Oh! Fuck! Dean!” she gasps and snatches onto his arm, fucking herself onto his fingers and rubbing her softness down into his palm, humming along with Baby.

He gives her as much as she wants, lets his knuckles be crushed into the metal and waits patiently as she brings herself to a sighing, jaw-dropping climax.  When she pulls away his arm, lightly throwing it aside and yanking on his hips, and he stops her enough to say “Sexiest fucking thing I ever saw,” and nods at her wide-eyed and stern.

Eileen laughs and grins, and kisses him fat on the mouth.  Straight off, he tilts his dick for her, both of them watching, and he slides home, right into her and the gorgeous thrum of his car.

He’s never thought of fucking Baby, but this kinda feels like that, and it makes him hesitate for a quarter second.

“She ever made it good for you like this?” Eileen asks, right into his ear.

Dean shakes his head, takes a hold of her ass and leans into it, feels his balls against the metal and the gentle thrum of the engine.  “Oh,” he whispers, “ _fuck_.”

“You do it how you like,” she says, wrapping herself around him.

Dean tucks his thumbs inside her hips, fingers wide over the fat and tries to show her what he wants as he presses his lips to her ear.  “Just roll it.”  He wants the vibrations, smooshes himself a little, up against the shine, and lets her rock onto him, grinding her clit against his bone.  He kisses back to her lips again, holds her close, tilts and ruts, loving how loud she is, how vocal and open, and how perfectly her voice like this goes over Baby’s fat idle, like Eileen's the treble her bass has always needed.

Then he changes it up, pulling back and tilting her away so he can thrust. Eileen goes with it and lays down on the hood, letting him brush away her shirt so he can see her skin all the way down to where he’s sliding in and out.  Eileen presses her palms to the metal, lays her spine flat as she can, and feels him fuck her on his growling car, nice and hard, with his thumb on her clit, as good as she’s ever hoped, circling and circling, then flicking in time.  She knew he’d be someone who would bring whatever she needed.

Eileen opens her eyes enough to watch, sure that he can see her do it, and loving that he doesn’t hide.  At the last second he closes his eyes, brow pinched and lips slack, and comes, beautiful and bare, tilting the last few so that she gets it a little harder, a little more specific, and she grabs at him, surprised and flashing perfection across her body.

Dean doesn’t let her rest there, instead pulling her by the wrist, hauling her up into his arms for kisses and forehead bumps as they puff heart-warm air against each other.  He pulls his hips away, slipping free, and she slides off the car, the two of them ending up sideways against the fender.

When Dean looks down at her, Eileen looks up at him, taking in half smiles and the happy thought that everything’s just a-okay between them.  The kisses are like Thank yous and the squeezes are You’re welcomes.

Redressed and back in the car, Dean turns to Eileen with a serious question.  “I thought you might have a thing for Sam.”

“I might,” she shrugs, coy and private.  “Maybe if he has a thing for me.  He’ll just have to be okay.”

Dean rolls his tongue around his mouth and considers the fall out, whether he should maybe keep something to himself.

“Did you want to be my girlfriend?” she stirs.

Dean huffs, rolls his eyes, and snaps his jaw shut.  “Well, you did defend my honour and all.”

“I’ll always have your back Dean,” she says, then adds, “and I’ll teach you the sign for oops.”


End file.
